Grieve Your Own Way
by Midnight Hawk
Summary: Alistair and Zevran mourn Elissa Cousland in a rather unique way. Alistair/Zevran one shot.


It was a very cold and lonely night, that was why one thing had led to another, at least, that's what he told himself. He hadn't wanted to spend the night alone, because every moment that he had to himself was lost in memories of her. Sunlight glinting on her hair, blood smeared across her cheek, the slightly crooked teeth that showed when she smiled widely. It was almost as though he conjured her ghost to his side whenever he was alone.

But tonight he was not alone, even though he was also with her. It was a vigil over her body, useless save but for tradition, no undead would rise from Elissa's body. She was clad in a simple white shroud, her pale blonde hair spilling loose across the stones.

"You are not alone in your grief, my friend," Zevran said, at his side. "I cared for her too, but she chose you in the end."

"I didn't know," Alistair said, "I knew you were interested, well she was a woman, of course you were interested, but I didn't know that she..."

"Turned me down? Oh, yes, she toyed with my fragile affections like a kitten. My heart will never recover." Zevran looked at Elissa's pale and cold corpse. "I did not however, think it would come to this."

"What do you mean?" Alistair said, looking at Ellisa's lips, remembering the warmth that had once pulsed through them.

"I had rather thought that if any of us died to save Ferelden, it would have been you."

Alistair shot the elf a rather dangerous glance, Zevran did not smile. "I would have sacrificed myself, but she would not allow that. She insisted I live to take the throne, but I can't stop thinking about her..."

"You loved her deeply, it is only natural that you should fell pain and regret."

"Is it?" Alistair asked. "You do not seem to suffer? How many countless hearts have you broken without a care in the world?"

"I... am not immune to love's sting, Alistair. I thought I was but those poison barbs seem to catch in my weary flesh time and time again. And everyone I love dies, sometimes even by my own hand."

Alistair was surprised to see tears in Zevran's eyes, then ashamed that he felt surprised. Had he thought he was the only one who would miss her? He reached out to the elf, wanting to console him somehow. He didn't really know how to embrace another man, he felt even more awkward than he had when first confessing his feeling to Elissa, strange that he should think of that now.

Zevran had no such awkwardness sharing emotions with other men, he accepted Alistair's embrace and wound his arms around the taller man's shoulders. "Your Majesty," he muttered "what would the Queen say if she found you in another man's embrace?"

Alistair reddened and hastily disengaged himself from the elf's arms. "Why do you always have to make everything about sex?"

"Because most things boil down to two things: Sex and death and I am good at both."

"You never... with Elissa though?"

"No, she had far too much honour to lie with me." Zevran wiped his eyes on a silk handkerchief that had suddenly appeared from one of his sleeves. It had golden embroidery, Alistair couldn't help but notice. He felt guilty suddenly, it seemed wrong that Zevran should be moved to tears by Elissa's death, while he remained dry-eyed.

"Zevran...?" The word was a question in itself.

"Yes?"

"Thank you for being her with me tonight. I cannot face being alone with my thoughts just now."

"She was always there when I needed her, standing vigil for her is the least I can do."

"I don't know how I can go on without her... I have to be King, I have to start a family and I just can't bear thinking of her laying cold in the grave." Then Alistair finally did feel tears pricking at his eyes, and, ashamed, turned away.

He felt Zevran place his hand on his back: "Why do you hide your sorrow from me? I would not condemn you for loving her." Through his black sorrow Alistair dimly felt the elf gather him up into his arms. Before he knew it his tears were falling onto Zevran's shirt. "Be careful, Alistair, you could ruin the embroidery."

Alistair swallowed a sob and looked up into Zevran's eyes. Zevran was crying again too and without thinking Alistair touched a tear upon the elf's cheek. It was a tender gesture and Zevran responded to it by stroking Alistair's cheek. Alistair was still looking into Zevran's eyes and gulped audibly, for something in Zevran's gaze had changed. There was the look of the hunter there, not the look of a friend.

Before Alistair had fully realised what was happening Zevran's mouth had fastened upon his own. He was completely surprised by the sudden kiss and heated response his body gave off. Zevran's kiss was forceful and strong, and there was no gentleness in it, it was all heat and intensity. His tongue danced its way into Alistair's mouth and a moan escaped Alistair's lips as he felt the elf's tongue against his own.

Then the full force of what was happening struck Alistair and he pulled away from Zevran's urgent embrace. "W-what are you doing?" He demanded, hearing and hating the quiver in his voice. But what made it quiver? Fear? Or was it longing?

"I am grieving for her, in my own way," Zevran said, putting his arms around Alistair's waist.

"You think she would approve o f that?" Alistair said, trying to avoid Zevran's lips by turning his head away. But Zevran simply kissed his neck instead, licking, sucking and biting until the flesh bruised. Alistair gasped in pain and desire, he had never been touched this way by a man and it shocked him to discover how badly he wanted it.

"We both loved her, what better way to honour her memory than sharing our love of her?" Zevran purred, tugging at Alistair's shirt until he could slide his hands onto Alistair's bare chest. "Show me how much you love her," he said, stroking the fine golden hair on Alistair's skin.

Alistair met Zevran's gaze again, the look of the hunter had vanished, instead he saw compassion in the elven man's gaze. He looked at the golden tinge of Zevran's skin and the soft lines of his sensuous mouth. Alistair licked his lips nervously, and gently kissed Zevran's mouth, thinking of Elissa as their lips touched.

He thought of Elissa as Zevran slowly undressed him, he thought of the sunlight on her hair as the elf traced the lines of his body with his tongue. He thought of blood smeared across her cheek as Zevran took his member into his mouth. He thought of her crooked teeth as he fucked the elf's mouth and it was her name he cried out as he came.

"Elissa," Zevran said, exploring Alistair's buttocks with his hand. He tenderly inserted a finger into the King's arsehole. "Elissa", he muttered as he covered his cock with warmth balm. "Elissa," he whispered as he entered Alistair.

"I love you, Elissa" Alistair said, between gasps of pained pleasure. He had never dreamed of being with a man, of being broken open and impaled with such cruel loving. Zevran stroked his flaccid member while he thrust into him and Alistair bit down on a whimper.

Zevran had intended to be gentle with Alistair, but he was flooded with love for Elissa, as though he was making violent love to her, not her lover, and he thrust fiercely and cruelly, with her name on every breath.

Alistair could not help but glance at Elissa's corpse as Zevran rutted within him. This was such a strange situation, it was almost like desecrating her name. Yet Alistair felt his cock rise again as he looked at her ash blonde hair and cold dead lips. Zevran began to fondle him as he thrust deep inside, still whispering her name.

They were both brought to the brink by thoughts of their dead love, but when Zevran convulsed in orgasmic pleasure, it was Alistair's name that he cried, not Elissa's. Alistair felt pleasure overtake him again as the elf cried out his name in release and he spilt his seed on the stones before the corpse of his beloved.

When their pleasure was eventually over, Alistair refused to meet Zevran's eyes and they dressed in silence. They would never speak of this moment again, in the future it was as if those stolen moments had never happened. The seed they spilled, the pleasure they had felt, those were sacraments sacrificed upon the altar of a dead love.


End file.
